Home > Musings of a Decorative Ham Man > Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

January 17, 2013 Leave a comment Go to comments

By Chris Vitiello
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Last night, I attended my first draft.

I left my decorative ham factory early but not before calling a meeting in which I excoriated most of my employees.  “There should be no frivolity,” I said.  “I despise frivolity.  The Vitiello’s did not travel across wide oceans in threadbare conditions so that centuries would pass and there would be individuals engaging in frivolity.  No irreverence, either.  You know my thoughts on irreverence.”  Then, I smashed a computer screen over the back of a chair.

I drove to the hotel.  Little had been said in regards to the draft’s location and yet, there were Dick Oakes, Jr. and Brock Belvedere hanging around the bar.  “We’re waiting for women,” they both said.  I eyed them up and down.  “You have notepads and press passes hanging around your necks,” I noted.  Belvedere looked nervously away– I should have whipped him then.  Instead, I found a quiet corner table.  I ordered a water and cheese sandwich and prepared.

At 9PM sharp, the draft began.  There was a small man at a lectern and after Mr. Barlow of the Oversions made his first pick, the man announced the player’s name loudly and projected his photo on a dim screen.  This, I felt to be entirely superfluous.  I approached the man as the clock ticked on the second pick.  I placed my hands on his boney shoulders.  I gave him a slight, toothless grin.  He stared back, transfixed.  I nudged him gently towards a dark corner and he went along nervously.  “The…the pick…?” he questioned, near to a whisper.  “Shhh.”  I patted him gently.

We watched the 2nd pick from the corner.  “Thank you for your service,” I said.  And then I whipped him mercilessly.

The rest of the draft went without incident.

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